


Milk and Sugar

by seungshibari



Series: Request Collection [9]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: D/s Community, Dom/sub, Established D/S Dynamic, Established Relationship, M/M, Nonsexual Service Submission, Service Submission, Tea, Tea Parties, high protocol, protocol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seungshibari/pseuds/seungshibari
Summary: There were five other people in the kitchen, all of them dressed in shades of black and white, lined up like the polished keys of a piano. They turned in unison to give Chan a once over. He took a mental inventory: his shirt was tucked in, his hair had just the right amount of product, his posture was adequate. In a gradient, the group began to grin at him. Each of them was beautiful in a distinctive, startling way, but it would take a while to learn their names. Chan felt kinship with them, not fear. They were all in attendance for the same reason. This wasn’t a competition, it was a celebration of service.“And that’s the easy part,” Sunwoo concluded with a flourish, having explained the best method of brewing the artisan tea he’d selected for today’s luncheon. From Chan’s perspective, there was nothing simple about it: something about airtight containers, oxygenating the water, porcelain and glass kettles. In any other circumstance, Chan would’ve found standards this specific to be superfluous, but Hyunjin deserved the best. Always.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Hwang Hyunjin, Side Choi Chanhee | New/Kim Sunwoo, Side Ha Sooyoung | Yves/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Series: Request Collection [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778398
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	Milk and Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT give permission for this fic or portions of this fic to be REPRODUCED or REUPLOADED without my express consent.
> 
> thank you to flor for this request! 
> 
> this fic centers around a high protocol tea service luncheon! events like these are nonsexual, but still have an undertone of power exchange. high protocol parties are quite common in D/s circles and are a great way for submissives to pick up new service-based skills and for Dominants to meet like-minded people. 
> 
> i have written brief informative threads on [nonsexual service submission](https://twitter.com/seungshibari/status/1337810905929838594?s=20) and [high protocol](https://twitter.com/seungshibari/status/1345566212961525761?s=20) if you'd like more background on these concepts before reading!

_Dear Mr. Hwang Hyunjin:_

_Would you please attend afternoon tea with me on Friday the tenth at half after two o'clock?_

_Hoping so much to see you,_

_Affectionately_

_Choi Chan Hee_

* * *

Chan kneeled to lay the embossed letter at the tip of Hyunjin’s shoes, careful not to let the card scrape the toe of his leather Princetons. The gold hardware had a new scuff on it, most likely a product of Hyunjin’s tendency to walk into walls while checking his notifications. Chan made a mental note to clean them later; Hyunjin should never have to remind him. He should never have to _ask_. The two of them had been together long enough to the point where Chan could predict Hyunjin’s needs, a type of telepathy that they both took pleasure in. 

Unlocking his phone with something akin to aggression, Hyunjin typed a number out on the screen. Whoever was on the other end picked up before the second ring bottomed out. “Hi, handsome,” Hyunjin purred. ‘Handsome’ could’ve been a host of different people. Everyone in their circle was good-looking. “Yes, it came just now.” Twirling a strand of hair with his finger, Hyunjin listened intently. “You know I love being catered to.” 

“Can the boy come?” Hyunjin murmured, lifting his feet so that Chan could vacuum beneath them. “Mm. He should be free.” Appraisingly, Hyunjin looked across the room at Chan. Chan could always feel when his master’s eyes grazed his back. Immediately, he reset his shoulders and tilted his chin slightly upward (not proud, never proud), respectable. “Maybe you can fix his posture.” 

Hyunjin cradled his chin in his hand, watching his boy abandon the vacuum to grab a microfiber cloth and begin wiping down the armoire (“it’s vintage, sourced from France, use the right cleaning solution,” Hyunjin would always remind him). A few seconds later, Chan skittered off to his next task, whirring with contentedness. Chores, for Chan, were a custom. Nothing was ever really dirty in the house, but there was something profoundly satisfying about completing something at Hyunjin’s request. No matter how minute Hyunjin made something seem, or how taxing the duty was, Chan would follow through with vigor and report back, head bowed and hands offered up. 

Chan had a difficult time embracing his own accomplishments, any accomplishments that existed independent of _this_ . Measured affirmation felt more meaningful coming from Hyunjin’s mouth. Each individual muscle relaxed as praise floated down from the throne: _‘good’_ was Chan’s most treasured word. 

Chan had built Hyunjin’s chair himself, over the summer, as a surprise. Dark cherrywood with a finish that complemented the armoire. A plush seat wrapped in an ornate fabric. Painstakingly, Chan had whittled delicate images into the arms of the chair. Now, he watched Hyunjin’s thumb rub over his carefully carved iconography: past the bowl of fruit, around the little bird, before settling on the rose. He shivered. 

_(He remembered when Hyunjin came home in the autumn. He’d been gently, teasingly berated by Hyunjin for not fashioning a matching ottoman, but Hyunjin quickly culled his worries with a toothy smile, reassuring him: “I already have a footstool, so I guess an ottoman would be excessive.” Chan sighed with glee and slid to the floor, settling onto all-fours. He didn’t see his Prince sit down in his chair for the first time, but he felt him when his feet settled softly, centering themselves over Chan’s spine, grounding him. Chan stilled his breathing and sunk into peace.)_

Hyunjin placed his phone on the side table. The dense clatter yanked Chan free from his bout of reminiscing. He was curious about the purpose of the call: he’d heard one of his many names in the conversation. ‘The boy’. Clearing his throat gently, Chan spoke up: “May this boy speak freely, Your Highness?” Personal pronouns had been eradicated from Chan’s vocabulary. He’d been trained to view himself as a part of Hyunjin, as one of his assets. Instructed to erase ‘I’ and ‘me’ from his speech, Chan could only describe himself in the abstract. His identity was molded around service. Modifying his communication in this way solidified his place. 

Eye contact with Hyunjin was also restricted, another privilege to be awarded to him. Chan cast his gaze down to the spotless rug and waited for a response, if he were to be given one at all. “Granted,” Hyunjin replied, admiring his boy, “look at me when you speak.” 

Chan raised his eyes gently and spoke with great care. “This boy was wondering what the purpose of the phone call was.” 

“Nosy,” Hyunjin joked, but there was no bite in his tone. He and Chan shared a swift smile. “So, we got invited to afternoon tea,” he explained, “and you can come with me. It’s sponsored by the M/s society that Chanhee joined, and I feel like it’d be good for us to get to know other people. It’s high protocol, and I know you’re good at that, but I think Chanhee’s a little different from me, so he says you’ve got to show up, like, an hour early for instruction.” 

That word: _good_ . And now, with this event, Chan would have even more opportunities to hear it, to be it. “Come sit,” Hyunjin invited. Lowering himself onto the carpet, Chan tucked his legs neatly beneath him and folded his hands in his lap, as was expected. “What do you think? Let’s drop the formalities for a sec and talk about it. How do you feel about it? We don’t have to go,” Hyunjin rambled, “but, like, since we’re kind of new to the area, I think it’d be a good idea. I want you to have some more friends in the community. ‘Cause I don’t want you to be lonely and I think you’d benefit from having people who, you know, _get_ submission to talk to. Does that make sense?” He was near out of breath by the time he finished his explanatory monologue, and clearly excited at the prospect. “Also, I just want to, like, show you off,” he finished. Whenever the two of them transitioned out of protocol and back to casual talk, Hyunjin would revert to his typical dorky style of communication. Long-winded, a little awkward, always endearing. 

“Babe, I’d love it,” Chan leaned his head back onto Hyunjin’s bony knee. Hyunjin looked so cute upside-down. “Everything about you is such a dream come true,” Chan murmured. 

“Oh, don’t get sappy on me now. Chanhee said he’s gonna forward me an email with all the details, I’ll send it to you, too. The training is like two hours long. Etiquette, serving, et cetera.” 

“I worked at Applebee’s, I think I know how to top up a glass.” 

“You mentioning Applebee’s just drained this chat of all sex appeal. Thanks for that.” 

* * *

_Chanhee, Choi via comm.mailinglist_

_to comm.mailinglist_

_Subject: [Comm-Mailing-List] High Protocol Afternoon Tea!_

Hello, all, 

I hope this email finds you well. I am pleased to announce that I have been given the honor of hosting the first high protocol party of the year. 

Afternoon tea will be served at 2:30, prepared by lifestyle submissives. Interested submissives - whether partnered or unpartnered - are expected to attend a dedicated training session (noon to 2PM) prior to the event. The training session will outline the event’s guidelines and goals. We expect well-mannered, devoted submissives to participate. Dominants who wish to see their submissives trained in the art of tea service - this is the perfect opportunity for the both of you! 

Dominants can expect to be waited on hand and foot, so please anticipate an afternoon of community, discussion, and delicious tea! Both Dominants and submissives must dress formally. Appearance, demeanor and conduct must comply. Those of all gender identities, gender presentations, and sexualities are welcome to participate. Please reach out with any questions and I will put you in touch with my co-coordinator and long-term partner, Kim Sunwoo. 

Many thanks, 

Chanhee 

_Choi Chanhee_

_Community Organizer_

* * *

Chan scanned over the email one final time before rapping his knuckles against Chanhee’s door. He hadn’t even registered how nervous he was until he pulled his hand back, noticing it shaking slightly. His thumb had left an oily print on his phone screen. He remembered the cursory instructions that Hyunjin had left him with: “address all Dominants you don’t know with respect, practice your basic etiquette, and, like, keep your shirt tucked in. Because it looks kind of silly when you don’t.” 

One deep breath later and Sunwoo had pulled the door open, bowing his head gently to acknowledge Chan. “Hi,” Chan squeaked, his voice coming out higher than it had sounded inside his head. 

He didn’t know Sunwoo well, but he harbored a begrudging admiration for him. At the singular play party he and Hyunjin attended, he’d watched Sunwoo bottom for an impact play scene. He’d been strung up on a Saint Andrew’s cross, made an example, his broad back flogged to ribbons. Hyunjin was transfixed: after all, it was intended to be a spectacle and Chanhee was an apt showman.

“What do you think,” Hyunjin whispered into Chan’s ear, his breath hot. 

“He’s… cool,” Chan said lamely, wringing his hands and trying to ignore his and Hyunjin’s matching hard-ons. He didn’t like to be jealous. 

Chan found that service stripped him of insecurity. When he was dedicating his time and energy to Hyunjin, he was endowed with purpose. Intention, duty, and resolve - the trusted triptych that cleared his mind. In his place, at Hyunjin’s beck and call, self-doubt was a distant memory, an unsavory dream. 

Sunwoo’s smile was irritatingly warm. “Come in,” he prompted, stepping out of the way so Chan could enter. The interior was all mahogany, drenched by shafts of light. The windows were seated high in the house, the ceilings lofty. It felt vaguely like a castle. Sunwoo extended his hand to Chan. Hesitantly, he took it and let himself be led. “We’re going to the kitchen. Everyone else is already here.” 

“Fu- oh, am I late?” He desperately hoped that sweat wasn’t staining the armpits of his button-up. It would suck to leave his blazer on all afternoon. 

Sunwoo laughed. “No, everyone else is just early.” 

There were five other people in the kitchen, all of them dressed in shades of black and white, lined up like the polished keys of a piano. They turned in unison to give Chan a once over. He took a mental inventory: his shirt was tucked in, his hair had just the right amount of product, his posture was adequate. In a gradient, the group began to grin at him. Each of them was beautiful in a distinctive, startling way, but it would take a while to learn their names. Chan felt kinship with them, not fear. They were all in attendance for the same reason. This wasn’t a competition, it was a celebration of service. 

One of the women - Ha Sooyoung - moved to stand next to Chan as Sunwoo launched into his run-down on the history of tea service. “Hello,” she whispered, “I can tell you’re kind of nervous, but I want you to know that this is supposed to be fun. You’re allowed to mess up. None of us will think less of you.” There was something so sincere and gentle about her, incongruent with her sharp dress and cool glare. He almost wanted to cry, but instead he simply thanked her and returned his attention to Sunwoo’s lecture. 

“And that’s the easy part,” Sunwoo concluded with a flourish, having explained the best method of brewing the artisan tea he’d selected for today’s luncheon. From Chan’s perspective, there was nothing simple about it: something about airtight containers, oxygenating the water, porcelain and glass kettles. In any other circumstance, Chan would’ve found standards _this_ specific to be superfluous, but Hyunjin deserved the best. Always. “In terms of etiquette, this is where it gets kind of complicated.” 

Chan briefly wondered how monitoring the exact temperature of the pot _wasn’t_ complicated enough, but shooed the thought away in favor of focusing intently on the extensive list of expectations associated with high tea etiquette. “You, as a servant, should anticipate the needs of your Dominant. It isn’t appropriate for them to have to request a refill. Don’t interrupt or interfere with the socialization. Remember, you are here to serve. Don’t lose sight of your purpose.” Sunwoo’s intensity and dedication to the subject filled Chan with a feverish admiration, tainted (or enhanced) with a touch of arousal. “Offer sugar, lemon, then milk, in that order. Sugar in the left hand, with tongs in the right. We bend gently at the waist.” He demonstrated before launching into his monologue once more, clearly in his element. Chan wasn’t sure if he wanted to be him or beat him. 

“Avoid speaking. And hold your head high. This is an amazing skill you’re cultivating. You know you’re working so hard.” 

Sooyoung turned to beam at Chan. “This will be great.” 

“So,” Sunwoo clapped his hands for emphasis, “let’s get into it.” 

The flock moved silently, steps eclipsed by the flutter of tailcoats, approaching the dining room with chins inclined but posture perfect. When Chan saw Hyunjin sitting there, the jewel of the table, as always, his heart was doused with calm. Time became unimportant as Chan contentedly flitted from guest to guest with his teapot, an ornate but hardworking hummingbird. Chan was delicately balancing a tray of petit-fours when he heard a disembodied voice complimenting Hyunjin. “You smell nice.” 

He didn’t dare look up to see who it was. After all, his focus was on service. 

When Hyunjin had been freed from his acquaintance’s carefully choreographed hug, he explained: “It’s Margiela’s cologne. Jazz Club. I have the boy wear it, too.” 

In the mornings, as instructed by Hyunjin, Chan would dutifully spray the perfume onto his wrists and neck. The aroma was something like bourbon, sex, and sun. Lavish, but enigmatic. Hyunjin, decanted.

“Is it conditioning?”

“Isn’t everything?” Hyunjin replied. 

Chan kept his eyes averted in respect, but he heard the grin embedded in Hyunjin’s curt words. When the first course had been served, one-by-one each submissive peeled off from the pack to take a seat at the foot of their Dominant. Chan came to rest at Hyunjin’s side, having fulfilled his duties. “I’ll save one of the scones for you,” Hyunjin whispered. He patted the thigh of his fitted dress pants, signaling for Chan to rest his cheek against them. He pressed his warm face to the sleek fabric. “Look up at me,” Hyunjin prompted, his voice warm, but distant above the delicate clatter of silverware. Chan obeyed. It was difficult to maintain the straight-faced, butler-esque demeanor that he’d been advised on while Hyunjin was beaming at him. His eyes looked a bit damp, but it could’ve been a trick of the afternoon light, sun gliding through the bay window and across his glittery lids. “You know, I’m so proud of you.”

Chan smiled, then quickly hid his grin in the folds of Hyunjin’s slacks as he waited for his superiors to finish the tea he’d prepared. One of Hyunjin’s hands descended, a gift, to rest at the top of Chan’s head. Hyunjin stroked his boy’s hair absentmindedly, chatting with a stranger across the table, working the room, being a thousand different people for a hundred different reasons. The only thing that Chan focused on was the feeling of Hyunjin’s loving, possessive fingers meandering across his scalp, because it was the only thing in his world. The only thing.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! 
> 
> feel free to contact me elsewhere:  
> ⚜ [twitter](https://twitter.com/seungshibari)  
> ⚜ [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/seungshibari)


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